All Is Fair in Love and Tango
by RperQueen
Summary: They met each night, playing the same old record, retracing the same old steps. But they could only fool themselves for so long. Nini chose to walk away from love. But what's she to do when it comes spinning back at her, playing the same old soundtrack?


_The usual legal mumbo-jumbo. I don't own Moulin Rouge, any of these beautiful characters or this scene. Sadly, it's all Baz Lutherman's. Lucky man he is. __ANYWAY, this is my first and only Moulin Rouge fic, but I'm proud enough of it to post it here, so please review. It means the world to me. Enjoy!_

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**All's fair in love and tango. **

They used to sneak off together every night. But that was a long time ago. They used to put on the same worn out record every night and she would jump into his arms and they would dance. They would dance in that great big hall until the sun came up. They never talked during the day. It was as if the light outside everyday erased their memories of the evenings they spent together. He could not bear to watch her with the other men and she could not bear his sad gaze as she conducted her buisness.

But before long they met with less frequency. And soon enough they both knew it could continue no longer. There were no longer any steps to accompany the sounds of the scratched tango record.

One night, we all sat in strained silence around the worn floorboards of the Moulin Rouge, awaiting the news of Satine and her night with the Duke. Everyone else wrung their hands, hoping for their ending to the beloved play. My beloved play. I couldn't care less about it right now. All I hoped for was my love to come running back to me. I counted the minutes, constantly fooling myself into thinking I heard her footsteps cross the room to meet me.

Unfortunatly, once I chose to ignore the dull clicking of high heels, again crediting it to my imagination, but then a voice accompanied them. Yet it was not the velvety speech of Satine, instead the bitter voice of Nini met my disappointed ears. Looking back now, I hardly remember what we said. I made myself a promise to remember the feelings and not the words of those times. Because it's what always seems more accurate. And so I couldn't tell you what was said at that moment, but I can remember the fury that built up inside me at her words. It seemed to boil behind my eyes and I felt my fists clench before I could even open my mouth.

Everything was a blur of motion until the handsome Argentinean reached out to her. I caught Nini's eyes once more and I knew that her world was moving in slow motion. She was afraid to breathe incase he left her once more. But we broke contact as her heavy-lidded eyes closed, the man besides her kissing her milky white shoulder.

And in a flash he was gone from her side, his deep roar of a voice echoing around the room and bidding everyone's attention as he began to tell a story. I saw it in her eyes once more, but she masked it quickly as she followed suit, faking a laugh as if this was all just a show. As she descended the stairs, many men around the room lowered there heads, eyeing their shoes in intrest. She stared intently into his coal-colored eyes, and they were empty.

Where was that zeal she had always seen in them, that thirst for life? What had happened to his man? Before she had anymore time to contemplate these things, and her hand in them, the frist melodic song on that dusty record hit her ears and burst into the room with a kind of unabashed passion. Like a guest knocking down the door, dragging in the cold snow all over the rug and just standing there with a hearty laugh and red cheeks.

She knew the steps, her high-heeled shoes moving without thought. And soon she was back in his arms again, dancing, spinning, twirling. It was not choreographed at all, they moved with their hearts. When she was in his arms, she felt revealed. Her frosty, shielding exterior was melted to reveal just a girl, who fell in love with a boy. A girl who quickly grew bitter when she realized there was no fairy tale ending for people like them. She was a girl, scarred and guarded.  
He pushed her away, and she awakened from her thoughts, body tensening up once more. Her eyes show open when hands met her back. Strange hands, large and calloused. She turned fast, meeting the stangers eyes but not really looking at them.

His voice rang out across the hall, calling to her. Rigid and rough, he sent chills dancing down her spine. She was pushed back to him and their eyes locked, and it seemed as if the room had frozen once more, and they were trapped together, as if everything revolved around them in that moment. Nini sucked in her breath and whished that she could live here, in this moment. In his arms.

His nose was touching hers, his dark lips tempting her. She couldn't kiss him here, with an audience. It just was wasn't that simple, and that's something he had never understood. The familiar lump in the back of her throat built up and she swallowed it back and stepped back as if in surrender. He too turned away, looking down and shaking his head sadly. She let her gaze rest on the ceiling, breathing slowly to erase the feeling of his hands on her and his all-knowing eyes boring into hers. She kept walking, set on leaving the dancefloor, but he spun back around sharply and called out once more, his voice full of angst rang out, touching every nerve she possessed. With every letter he sang, she felt like she was falling in love with him again. He reached out, but she turned away. In a flash she was dancing again, this time in a circle, being thrust around with more cold, dirty hands digging into her. Finally she felt his strong hands at her back and almost relaxed, but anger flashed through her as she caught his gaze and deciphered the look in his eyes.

"I don't need your pity." She whispered quickly and quietly, her lips pulled into a straight line. She was not happy with her life or the person she had become. A bitter prostitute with hardly any friends and a drinking problem. But she certainly didn't need this man to tell her that she could of done better. As he pulled her back against his muscular chest she felt his lips graze her ear.

"It's all that you'll let me give you."

His hand slid across her neck.

"And it's much more than you deserve."

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_Alright, I know it's nothing special, but I wrote it almost four years ago, and I just re-wrote it and I like it. It's my first and only Mouline Fic. So please review! _


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